


what not to do when you're sneaking around at 3 A.M.: not a guide

by azure7539



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Massage, actual fluff from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21711007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azure7539/pseuds/azure7539
Summary: “Honestly. Go home. Rest. Or M will make you,”Eve’s cautionary words suddenly filled the leadened space in his head. Q shivers, only now remembering that he’s cold, and that the AC system has broken down yesterday and is only getting fix starting tomorrow.“Otherwise, find a way not to injure your back further. You hate people telling you to ‘take it easy’ as it is. Then do something about getting better.”
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 5
Kudos: 117





	what not to do when you're sneaking around at 3 A.M.: not a guide

**Author's Note:**

> For the MI6 Cafe's **_Anon Gift Exchange Prompts - Week 1_**
> 
> This hasn't been proofread. I can only pray that there aren't too many mistakes for now. I'll go back and check later.

A couple of weeks ago, Q hurt his back falling down in the supply room.

It was just a bit of either water or tea leftover from some untended-to beverage spillage, but because his mind was focused on finding some necessary spare parts and getting back to work quickly, and also because the area behind the piling boxes was somewhat dimly lit, Q slipped on it. And fell. 

It’s nothing serious. Just some bruises and pulled muscles.

Hurts like a bitch, but seriously, if someone tells him one more time to ‘take it easy,’ he’s going to snap.

Q’s elbows nearly knocks the mug of tea that Eve had placed there for him about… a handful of hours ago, and even though the cold tea inside is long drained to the last drop, Q still heaves a sigh of relief and shifts the porcelain elsewhere. He rather doesn’t fancy the idea of breaking something he’s growing fond of.

_ “Honestly. Go home. Rest. Or M will make you,” _ Eve’s cautionary words suddenly filled the leadened space in his head. Q shivers, only now remembering that he’s cold, and that the AC system has broken down yesterday and is only getting fix starting tomorrow.  _ “Otherwise, find a way not to injure your back further. You hate people telling you to ‘take it easy’ as it is. Then do something about getting better.” _

He scowls. Not that she was wrong, but—

His eyes drifts up to the screen in front of him. The code will take a while to run, and considering that Bond is back on home soil and is most likely already home in all that time Q’s lost track of during the coding session just now, he will probably have some time to spare. More or less.

Lips pinched, Q sits there tapping at the surface of his desk, littered with half-drawn blueprints and hastily jotted notes, until he decides to stand up and walks out of his office, the door locking automatically behind him. 

It’s nearly 3 in the morning. What the hell. He needs a break from his as-of-late rotten luck anyway.

He says one thing or another to the skeleton crew, swallowing back a grimace as his back cramps and throws a hissy fit on him for being cold and for trying to sit for so long without a proper break, and heads for the lift. Usually, he likes taking the stairs, good exercise with the benefit of submitting to his paranoia and shutting it up, but that doesn’t seem like it’s going to work tonight (or very early morning, depending on how one looks at it).

Letting out a harsh breath as he rubbed at his back, wanting to at least ease some tension there, Q steps out again into a different hallway, this one a couple of floors above his very own underground lair, and heads straight towards the end of the corridor where the gym was located.

This is the Double-O Section, and normally, he never goes here because they’ll  _ always _ have to come to him if they ever want some help.

But they have a bloody jacuzzi installed next to the pool here, goddamn it.

He just about manages to stumble into the room when his back twists another pinch that nearly knocks the air out of his lungs. Q curses under his breath, spotting racks of neatly folded, presumably clean, towels and makes a beeline for it without hesitation.

He thinks he saw no one in the brief glimpse he took of the live feed of their building’s CCTV, and proceeds to strip without aggravating his cramps even more, securing the definitely dry towel around his waist.

No one really is there, thank goodness. He turns on the light and does the same to the jacuzzi in the corner, watching as its water begins to churn and froth in the contained, pushing and pulling waves.

The idea of using what is basically a public bathing pool does seem sort of irksome to him, but his back is being a literal pain, and his own bathtub at home doesn’t come with the jacuzzi option, sadly. So… 

Q sucks in a lungful of air, suppressing another shiver as the cold air presses in all around him, sticking his foot into the water first to test out its temperature, then steps in.

The hot water acts like an immediate soothing balm, and the pressures of the water is already like a massaging force loosening up his knotted muscles. The sensations make Q shiver, and he sinks deeper in until only his head is above water, eyes slipping shut on their own accord.

He regrets not bringing something hot to sip on, but then again, it isn’t as if this place is his. Can’t be too relaxed in here and forgets himself now… even though it’s unlikely that anyone is going to stumble in upon him—

“Q?”

Q nearly jumps, muscles seizing in the water as his eyes flew open.

He doesn’t have his glasses on, having put them up on the edge of the jacuzzi, but at the same time, he doesn’t need his sight to just  _ know _ who it is.

“Bond?” He squints, frowning and running a hand through his face like it can just hide his expression and reaction away. The ground may as well open up and swallow him whole now,  _ Christ _ . “What are you doing here?” 

By the time the question flies out of his mouth, he already knows it’s a mistake. The one who actually has the right to be here is  _ Bond _ , not him.

“Just finishing up my workout,” Bond replies casually, and it doesn’t take a genius to hear the smugness in his voice. “You’re enjoying yourself.”

Q tells himself it’s the hot water that’s making him flush.

“Gotta find a way to enjoy myself from time to time,” he mutters and reaches for his glasses, haphazardly putting them on. “I’ll leave you to it then,” he says and makes to get up.

But then, he didn’t realize how close Bond has gotten. But the time he manages to straight up, Bond has lowered himself into the jacuzzi as well and is pulling Q to sit back down.

“What’s the rush?” the infuriating man hums, his firm but gentle grip around Q’s forearm runs hotter than the water in this tub itself. “Stay. You’ve only just gotten here.”

Q scowls. “You were spying on me?” 

Bond shrugs. “Not so much spying as it is noticing. You weren’t exactly quiet.”

The muscle in Q’s jaw jumps, and he yanks his arm away.

“And you’re supposed to be home resting by now,” he nearly spits out, the vehemence burning his face even more, the red tinge of color flourishing upward from his chest, spreading to his neck and cheeks. “Like I said, I’ll—”

“Is that a bruise?”

The question comes so suddenly, so quietly and almost grave, that it catches Q off-guard. “What?” His glasses have fogged over; he can’t really see Bond’s face. 

“On your back,” Bond replies, no trace of humor left in his tone. Q thinks he’s gesturing somewhere at Q’s backside with his hand.

“Oh.” Instinctively, Q tries to turn and have a look, regretting it in an instant. “Ah, shit.” He forces down another grimace. “It’s nothing.”

“Tell me,” Bond insists, sounding strangely serious.

Q blinks. “I said it’s nothing.”

“Q.” 

It’s not a warning. It’s not even a command.

It’s just…

Like warm, reassuring hands on your shoulders, batting your denial away.

Q swallows. “I just fell, okay? A couple of weeks back. Probably just sprained something.”

“Let me see.” And Bond is already turning Q gently in the water even before he can formulate a response to that, large, calloused hands pressing into the tender flesh of his back. Q doesn’t manage to hold back the first hiss, when Bond prods into a particularly knotted spot.

“Jesus, Q.  _ You _ should be the one home and resting.”

“Things to do; world to save,” Q quips, his toes curling in the water when Bond begins to apply a soft-enough pressure, initiating a surprise massage. “Stop.” He tries to wriggle away. Although he’ll never admit, even aloud to himself, about how half-hearted the attempt is. Goddamn it, Bond. “You don’t have to.”

“Sit still now. You have to take care of this before it turns into a problem later on.”

Q rolls his eyes. “Spoken with true experience, huh?”

It’s a bit vicious, sure, but he doesn’t expect Bond to just murmur a “yes” back either. 

“So. Sit still,” Bond continues.

And for whatever reason, Q actually listens.

He lowers his head to grant Bond better access to the nape of his neck as the agent works his way up and down Q’s back. Eventually, Q whispers, “Thanks.”

Bond replies with a hint of a smile, “My pleasure, Quartermaster.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Prompt:** the heat is broken at six. q is so cold that the only solution is to sneak into the agents' locker room and use the jacuzzi. except... well we can guess which agent always lingers long after hours. naughty naughty. james finds q naked and sipping tea and climbs right in. what could go wrong?
> 
> I changed a few things from the prompt to better suit my own direction; I hope that's still okay for whoever requested the prompt.


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